First Look

After leaving Rome on Sunday, a short 40 kilometers or 25 miles, we found ourselves in the ancient town of Artena, Italy. A “suburb” of Rome, Artena is really two cities. You have the lower half of the town, still old in years, but more modern. Then you have the upper part of Artena, the medieval village that has existed since the 12th century, built up and into the hillside.

That’s where we were staying… the ancestral home of the Honored… the Onoratis.

I found an adorable but tiny home on Airbnb, located in the ancient village. This is where the grandfather of my husband, Gary Steven Onorati, was born and lived until his immigration to America in 1912. I wanted him to be able to see where his grandfather(s) and his great grandfather and his great-grandmothers and other relatives had lived.

Our hostess Valeria and her husband Roberto, kindly gave us the name of a local gentleman who runs a taxi service and he was able to pick us up from the train depot in Valmontone and drive us the three miles or so to Artena and he dropped us off at Piazza Della Vittoria, the town square of Artena. There is a local shop where you can get a cup of espresso, a small snack or donut, and sometimes a sandwich. You can always find someone sitting outside, drinking a cup, smoking, and chatting with whoever sits down next to them…. unless you’re a foreigner, then they’re pretty quiet until you open up first, then they want to know all about you!

The drive to the Piazza was a hilly climb that warned us of what to expect. Our hostess also forwarned me that there were 93 steps to climb to reach their home… I can’t seem to remember if I mentioned that to Steven or not before we arrive. As we were getting out of the taxi, a message from Roberto welcoming us and telling us to look under the doormat for the house key, included a video of the route to take to reach the home. I thought that it was wild that I needed a video to find the place instead of written directions, but we later discovered the video was the perfect map!

We had to stop three times before we reached our destination. The climb was a bit much for Steven with his Afib issues and thank goodness I had been on my allergies and asthma injections or I wouldn’t have made it either. The walk was amazing though! We had literally stepped back into time with hand-cut cobblestone laid sidewalks and homes with entryways half the size of today’s homes.

The entry of the home was magical. A beautiful, wooden double door with an adorable porch and two welcoming chairs is just what two Americans of advance aged needed! Above the table, jutting out from the mountain rock was a natural spring with fresh water for the home and it was well received to help calm our racing breathing and hearts. A canopy of grapevines and grapes hung overhead, providing natural shade, although much of the sweetened fruit had been enjoyed by birds.

We opened the door to a beautiful entryway… and more steps!

The living area of the home was up another two flights of stairs. And the bathroom was yet, up another small flight. The home was tiny but well-appointed. There was a kitchen with a “full”-sized refrigerator, smaller than the ones we were used to but perfect for the area. A table and a stovetop cooking area and two sets of cabinets completed the kitchen. Another step up found us in a rather large bedroom. There was a wonderful view of the “modern” city below in the distance, as well as the village street. The room also included a large TV, a huge wardrobe closet, and an IKEA writing desk – and I mention IKEA because I would imagine that everything has to be in sections to make it up the narrow winding stairs of the home.

A door off the bedroom revealed a smaller room with a set of bunk beds and a large wardrobe inside.

Our hosts told us there was no heat until November, and I jokingly said it’s been quite warm and pleasant so far on our trip that I didn’t see a need for heat.

I… WAS… WRONG!

But by the time it hit 7pm, Steven was in his hoodie and winter coat and his fingers were white… a symptom of getting frostbite while in the Marine Corps… and it was warmer outside!

The man was not a happy camper. He wasn’t walking up and down those “damn” steps and this wasn’t his cup of tea at all! I let him vent, got another blanket for the bed, and told him to get some sleep and that he’ll feel better in the morning.

Adventuring into the City

Morning came and he’s walking with me down the rather steep hill into the town below. We took it easy and slowly made our way down where we found a town square.

We found a supermarket and I said let’s grab some pasta and breakfast food so we have something for dinner and breakfast the next day so he didn’t have to walk “up and down that damn hill.”

On the way back to the road which lead to the village, I passed a building I recognized to be a library. There were more stairs, three flights I later learned, to reach the library, so it was a good thing I left Steven at the cafe at the bottom of the building while I went to ask my questions.

At the library, I met the director who started helping me look up some info on Steve’s family. I have no idea what happened to his great-grandparents and would like to know where they are buried at. He tells me there is no documentation that shows Steven’s great-grandmother is buried in Artena. That is shocking news to me. Where is she buried then? A new mystery for sure! I believe his great-grandfather passed in America but not his great-grandmother. Definitely, something to ponder. An hour later… my husband is still sitting in the spot I left him and still smiling, so all is good.

As we made our way up the hill… a much longer journey for us, given the number of people who were zipping by us, had us commenting this is probably why Italians live long lives. Their hearts have to be in amazing shape!

I lost track of the number of times we stopped to rest, but it allowed me to look around at the various homes and imagine what life must have been like at a different time. There was a lot of history staring at me and I knew I wouldn’t be learning even a tenth of it. Located on the Piazza Dell Vittoria are several plaques dedicated to American military units who came to the aid of the townsfolk during WWII. The town has not forgotten its American friends.

After making it back to Piazza della Vittoria, we enjoyed a short rest and then started the trek of the 93 steps up to the home. My legs were screaming at me but Steven was being quite kind about the trip. I know it was rough on him, but we took it slow and made it to the house.

Where he promptly fell asleep!

Family Beginnings

But the reason we came to this particular village in the first place was to see the home of Armando Onorati, father of six boys and four girls, Steven’s grandfather, my sons’ great-grandfather, and the start of an American branch of Onoratis. So, while Steven was sleeping, I decided to go look for the address I had discovered on the birth record of Steven’s grandfather.

Going by his birth record, Domenico Armando Onorati was born on April 10, 1893, in Artena at Vicolo del Pavone #2 to Odoardo Domenico Onorati and Constanza de Santis. Armando had a younger half-brother, Luigi Onorati, from his father’s first marriage to Adeleia Botteri, who died as an infant in 1887, and his death record says he was living at Via del Pavone #2.

Vicolo del Pavone and Via del Pavone are just around the corner from one another. Vicolo means alleyway and Via is street, so Vicolo del Pavone is an “alleyway” off of Via del Pavone. I’m positive that one of the records is incorrect. I think the same location was being recorded but written down wrong. I’m leaning toward Luigi’s being incorrect because of the status of the father. Steven’s great-grandfather, Oudardo Domenico Onorati, is listed as a peasant in all of his records and Via del Pavone #2 is a mansion compared to Vicolo del Pavone #2, and more of what was probably the home of a peasant.

It was important for me to find the birth home of Steven’s grandfather because of his Aunt Mary, sister to his father Armando Valifrank Onorati (1932-2013), children of Domenico Armando Onorati (1893-1958). Aunt Maria “Mary” Onorati, born in 1938, is the last living child of Domenico, and she had never seen where her father was born, and at 84 years of age, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to. So I had to find his birth home and document for her where it was.

Their family is deeply attached to that little village. Domenico Armando’s father Odoardo was born there. His mother as well, and both of her parents and their parents. Generations of Onorati, De Santis, De Cori, Lantani, and Del Proposta, all ancestors of my husband, my children, Aunt Mary’s children, and the children of her siblings all have their beginnings in a little 12th-century medieval villege located on the side of a hillside outside of Rome, Italy.

Unanswered Questions

My plans were to continue on to Cosenza, Calabria, Italy where Steven’s grandmother, Catarina Stano (1899-1897) was from. I really wanted to go there and hopefully, find some missing information about her for Aunt Mary. Her mother, Catarina, was born a foundling – an abandoned baby. Her parents refused to be named on her birth record and her name was left to the midwife to give before she delivered her to an orphanage, where eventually, she was raised/lived with a family who unofficially “adopted” her.

But that part of my plan is not what happened.

Steven felt that heading to the Calabria region which is at the bottom of the Italian “boot” was too far for us to make it back to Germany to try to catch a hop to make it home the following week. So instead, we have a new destination closer to Germany.

Next stop… Lausanne, Switzerland!